


Nightwing/Dick Grayson one-shots

by Coyotea



Category: DCU, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Dating, Developing Relationship, F/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 20:53:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12825858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coyotea/pseuds/Coyotea
Summary: Import of my book from Wattpad, just a collection of one-shots featuring Nightwing and my OC.





	1. How we met

(Dick's POV)

Twilight had just given way to night when I finished suiting up and prepared to go for a patrol. Bludhaven's streets had been fairly quiet lately, but I couldn't be caught slipping.

As I exited my apartment onto the roof, a light caught my eye across the street. It seemed that someone had finally moved into that loft across the street and bright lights were blazing in the large room. I wasn't usually super nosey, but since it had been pretty much abandoned for a while, I had to admit I was curious.

I grappled over to the building and slowly edged toward the window, looking around carefully to make sure I wasn't seen. It was pretty dark out, and it was starting to rain, but I swore once my curiosity was satisfied, I would leave.

As the room slowly came into view, I saw that the new occupant had kept the open floor design intact and hadn't attempt to mount any curtains or barriers to cordon off certain sections. There was a kitchen nook, a bed area, a living room area, but smack dab in the middle of the room was a large area with drop cloths covering the wood floors. A woman with a shock of pink hair sat in front of a canvas on an easel, sipping on the contents of a coffee mug and taking drags off of an e-cigarette. Her back was to me, so I couldn't see her face, but for some reason I felt rooted to the spot. The rain started pelting me harder but I stayed there still, crouched and observing.

Suddenly she put down her mug and set down her e-cigarette as she grabbed for something behind her. Her sudden movements made me back away quickly from the window, but after a few moments I carefully leaned back into view and saw that she'd grabbed a palette and was now drenching the canvas in front of her in what looked like watercolour paint. I couldn't tell if there was any sense in the colours or patterns she was painting, but she seemed very confident in what she was doing.

At that point, I finally tore myself away from her window and went on to patrol as normal to a thankfully uneventful night, but every night after that I'd grapple over to her building and watch her paint for a little while. It was amazing, almost soothing to watch her paint and turn a blank canvas into something beautiful. Over time, what started as a watercolour saturated canvas started turning into an incredibly detailed painting of a mermaid, slightly lifted out of the water onto a rock, bathing in moonlight. Every time I thought she would surely be finished with it, she was back adding more details the next night.

At least, that's how it was for a couple of weeks. Then, suddenly, one night her room was dark. I had grappled over but couldn't see her inside. From the faint light of the street lamp, I could see that the mermaid painting still sat on the easel, but she was gone. _She must be out with friends or something,_ I figured, but I'd be lying if I said didn't miss my little routine of watching her paint for a few minutes before patrol.

It was very strange, then, that the next night her room remained dark as well. And the night after that, and the night after that. I was actually legitimately getting a little worried about her, hoping that all was alright. I actually got worried enough that I accessed city records to find her information and see if there were any clues as to where she may have gone. That was at least a fruitful search, as I found that her bank card had purchased a train ticket to a small town a couple of hours outside of the city. I found a few people with her surname in that town, and figured she must have just gone for a visit.

While I still missed watching her painting, that find at least put me at some ease to know that she hadn't just up and disappeared. I still looked to her window every night to see if she had returned, but it wasn't until a week after she'd left that I saw a light flip on just as I was about to go out on patrol for the night.

I couldn't help myself as I grappled over to her building again, but the sight that awaited me was not what I was expecting. It looked like she had just walked in, and she was wearing all black; black shoes, black dress, black blazer that she took off and tossed on a chair. She looked worn out and...sad? She paused, leaning on a chair for a minute, and then suddenly lashed out, grabbing whatever was on her table and flinging it across the room. I was confused, but watched her, fascinated and curious. Just about anything that wasn't bolted down got thrown to the opposite end of the room, and I had to duck back from the window a couple of times to avoid getting caught. Then, she finally grabbed the mermaid painting in the middle of the room and my heart felt like it stopped. I wanted to cry out, to tell her no, don't destroy it, but I just sat there on the ledge, powerless to do anything.

She looked at it for a few minutes, and then her shoulders started shaking. Her back was turned to me, so again I couldn't see her face, but it looked like she was crying. She finally tossed aside the painting and I flinched as it hit the wood floor. She slowly trekked over to her sofa and sat down on it, and I could plainly see that she was indeed crying.

I gently laid my hand against the glass, my chest aching for some reason. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to hold her in my arms and comfort her. But I couldn't. We were separated by more than just glass, and I left the ledge to continue with my patrol, a little downtrodden.

It was then that I knew I had to meet her. Since researching her name, I had found that she was an established artist, but was mostly doing commissions and selling her art online, which undoubtedly was eating into her overhead. As Dick Grayson, though, I had some connections, and so I managed to pull a few strings and get a gallery owner friend of Bruce's to feature her and her work.

There would be no patrolling that night for me, as I pulled on a tux that I was grateful I still had left over from living with Bruce and headed over to the gallery. The owner greeted me warmly as I entered, thanking me profusely for finding this new artist for him to feature. She was, as he put it, a breath of fresh air for the local art community. He was more than happy to direct me over to her, and I swear my heart stopped for just a moment when I first saw her up close. She wore a long black gown, and her pink hair was now a dark blue, long and loose instead of in the usual messy bun she kept it in.

I took a breath and stepped toward her. She was standing by herself, looking at one of her paintings on display as I sidled up next to her. She turned to look at me and locked her dark blue eyes on mine. It was that moment I knew I was a goner. "You're the artist, right?" I asked, even though I knew good and damn well she was.

"Yes, I am," she replied as she offered her hand. "Sasha King."

I took her hand and shook firmly as I couldn't keep the smile off my face. "Dick Grayson."


	2. First date

I had to admit, when Dick Grayson of all people had asked me out, I was more than a little surprised. But he seemed pretty nice and he was more than a little good looking, so I didn't hesitate to say yes.

I pulled my blue hair into a low side bun, curling some loose tendrils and spritzing on some hairspray to keep everything in place. I kept my eyeliner light but put on some fake lashes just for a pop. Some sheer light pink lipstick later and I deemed my work done as I pulled on my blush coloured dress. I pulled a couple of pieces of jewelry out of my jewelry box and grabbed my clutch as I pulled on my flats, checking my phone as I waited for the elevator. A text popped up as the elevator doors opened. _Ready for the best date of your life?_

I grinned as I typed out a reply, _In the elevator now, on my way. :)_

Sure enough, as soon as the elevator doors opened, he was waiting for me in the lobby, the sleeves of his button up shirt rolled up and his dark hair slightly tousled. My stomach fluttered as he smiled at me, and I couldn't help the wide grin it gave me. He offered me his arm and I gladly took it, grinning like a madman at the fact that I was on his arm.

 

Our destination for the night was The Funny Bone, a comedy club and BBQ restaurant that I'd heard of but never visited before. I was usually too busy with my art to go out, but for Dick I made an exception.

  
Certain girls would _kill_ to be in my position, and I was sure that metaphorical daggers were being thrown in my direction as we stepped into the place. The hostess seated us at a quiet little table as sound checks were being run on stage. I put in an order for a margarita as Dick requested a craft beer while we still perused the menu.

We shot little glances at each other over the menu as we debated the merits of the items available to order. He wanted some ribs, and while they sounded good, I wanted something a little less messy, so I decided on a pulled pork sandwich. Our drinks arrived and we put in our food orders just as the first comic of the night started up.

Right out the gate, I almost snorted margarita through my nose during the opening monologue. I wasn't sure who laughed harder, me or Dick, but my sides were sore by the time the food arrived.

The meat was tender and juicy, with just the right amount of sauce. Dick seemed equally satisfied with his ribs, though I was glad I had decided against them as his fingers were soon covered in sauce. He playfully smeared a tiny bit on my nose and I tried to act shocked but I couldn't help but crack up as I grabbed a napkin and wiped my nose clean. His eyes flashed with joy, and right then I felt like I always wanted to look those eyes, every day.

A second comic finished out the night as we ordered dessert, a cheesecake for him and a large fudge-y brownie with a scoop of ice cream for me. I was stuffed but it was so good, and I rapturously enjoyed every bite.

We smiled and chit-chatted on the way back to my loft, and he saw me to the door. "Well I don't know about you," Dick said, "But I had a great time tonight, and I'd like to do this again."

I smiled, my heart beating fast at the prospect of seeing him again. "Yeah, I'd love to."

He smiled in response. "Great." At that, he leaned down and I swear my heart stopped for a second as I felt his warm lips press firmly against mine. I couldn't say for sure how long we stood there, kissing. It could have been a second, it could have been an eternity. I didn't know and I didn't care. I think my heart finally started beating again when we parted and he whispered as he stood close to me, "See you this weekend?"

I smiled lazily at him, already counting down the hours until we would meet again. "You can count on it."


End file.
